Knocked/All Talk.

Walking home super late night from my on-again-off-again boo’s, I came across dude. Knocked. On some cement stairs no less. Concerned, I did what any decent neighbor would do:

I took twitpics!!

After documenting the incident by way of photograhpics my conscious kicked in, so I woke the poor bloke and asked him if he was aight. He responded something I couldn’t quite make out. The language of drank is one that can only be comprehended by likewise members of the club I guess. Thru sign language tho, he got up and assured me he was good, so we then went our separate ways. I hope he made it.

Moral of the story: None of this should ever have happened. Friends don’t let friends pass out on random streets.

Nobody want’s to feel like the homies got they back, only to find out that the homies are all talk. When needed most they’re elsewhere, most likely knee-deep in pursuit of that all so elusive tail to quench they thirsty thirst, while you’re passed out on the street alone, having some asshole take pictures of you in your pitiful inebriated state.